A bitchy wife won't let you off the hook with a divorce. You
meet a stranger in a bar who offers, politely, to bump her
off, if you do him a small favor in return – murder his
sister. You don't take him seriously of course, but you
discover he was very serious and your wife is very dead. In
the immortal words of Karl Malden, what will you do, what
will you do?

Joey Silvera confronts that dilemma in John Leslie's latest
charbroiler, Strange Curves. With generous helpings of
Hitchcock and solid acting from Silvera as the victim of
circumstance and Scott Irish (the performance of his career)
as his antagonist, this is one of those melodramas that
gleefully sinks its hooks into you and never lets go. Dare I
suggest it doesn't even need the sex to be involving?

But since we're on the subject, Leslie's sexual
interpretations fit beautifully into this kind of story: the
characters are all strange to begin with, and they all stare
down one another in pregnant pauses, allowing their eyes to
control the scene. And there's always the plaintiff wail of a
jazz saxophone somewhere in strikind distance. No director in
the business works that dusky element better.

April West, as always, is luscious. Charli comes on board
for a cameo sex scene with Tom Byron that's teasing and
pulsating. And long-limbed Kelli Warner joins Leslie's new
brunette of the month club in an outstanding threesome with
Silvera and Sasha.

Excellent, really excellent adult drama that delivers on all
four burners.